Underneath
by indelible
Summary: Sakura, voyeurism, and the power of imagination. SasuNaru, SakuIno.


**Underneath**

Urei Sachi

* * *

It's dark out. 

The curtains are drawn and the window is open, and for the life of her she can't help but think that Kakashi-sensei is going to pop out of nowhere and ruin the moment. It doesn't seem likely, seeing that he's on a mission somewhere, but basic instinct overpowers logic in her case. Ninjas are like that, she tells herself. Science and all that mathematical crap count, sure, but what heightened senses and reflexes are infinitely more useful.

She wishes she isn't a ninja right now.

Because there are pale hands (so pale; did he ever really go outside and soak under the sun?) wandering everywhere --- tracing meaningless patterns on darker skin, trailing down the neck, the torso, and lower, and she tries to close her eyes but she can't help but look, because it seems as if this private worship is meant to be watched.

It's as if she hasn't seen anything like this before.

And she hasn't, really. At least, not first hand. She knew all about sex long before her parents finally gathered enough courage to talk to her about it (when she was fourteen, sadly). Ino had whispered it to her when they were – oh god – seven years old, barely old enough to understand the full implications of the forbidden word, but she remembers how her spine tingled and her hands shivered when the explanation was given.

She remembers that Ino's breath was hot and comforting against her ear.

She wonders now if it meant anything at all.

Then again, she muses, as her hand rests on her mouth, they were too young for it to be anything other than an innocent conspiratorial murmur. She misses her mark and her palm rests against her cheek instead. Oh, was she _blushing_ again? She had to work on suppressing her embarrassment (or was it arousal?) or else she'd replace Hinata soon.

_Not soon enough._

She can feel the heated incoherent murmurs that slip out of his mouth teasing her skin, and she can feel the faint grazing of his dark hair against her hands, the same way they always had when she watched over him as he lay unconscious on the hospital bed, only this time he's _awake_ and ten feet away from her. Her heart thuds in her chest loudly, rapidly, _unbearably_, until she has to clutch her shirt and skin in an effort to slow down the incessant beats.

It doesn't go _DOKI-DOKI_ like those doujinshi say.

No. It's far from that.

She watches those same hands touch half-opened lips with uncharacteristic tenderness, and she touches her lips and tries to remember if he's done this before.

Oh, wait. He has.

It's not a chaste kiss, nor is it a passionate one either. There doesn't seem to be anything encouraging it; it's rather lazy and slow, come to think of it, but she can't help but feel excited and…

And since when did she tolerate something like this?

She can do it. She can put a stop to this right now if she wants to, before clothes start to shed and sweat starts to trickle down their limbs, but she can't, not right now, because it's all too surreal, too special, and she figures that it's something that they _need_ to fill that aching loneliness that's always been there.

The least she can do is close the door very gently and stay far away.

So she does. She walks back to her room, looking thoughtful and somewhat confused, and she takes a long, cold shower, trying to dispel the image of spiky blonde hair splayed across the bed sheets and blue eyes opened impossibly wide as they stare back into black ones, kind of like a deer-caught-in-the-headlights, only this time the deer isn't wholly surprised, but she can't, because she never really can forget how Naruto looks like and how Sasuke is just himself, all domineering and smug.

She imagines it's her underneath him.

But tomorrow she'll wake up, and she'll stare at the ceiling and stare some more because there's no one in her bed but herself.

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END

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685 words.

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Yaoi fangirls will get a kick out of this. XD Smut is better when it's subtle, ne?


End file.
